Chapter 10: The Traitor Inside the House
Every light in the mansion suddenly felt colder.
Michael stared at the blank television screen.
The photograph of Lily had been taken only minutes earlier.
She had been asleep on the living room couch.
Wrapped in a gray blanket.
Exactly as she was now.
No one outside the house could have taken that picture.
Someone...
Had taken it from inside.
"Nobody moves."
Detective Sarah Bennett's voice cut through the silence.
She drew her service weapon.
"So does everyone else."
Within seconds, every officer inside the mansion was armed.
Sarah turned to Officer Martinez.
"Lock every exit."
"They're already locked."
"Lock them again."
Michael's eyes swept across the room.
Police officers.
Crime scene technicians.
Federal agents.
Paramedics.
Richard Donovan.
Vanessa.
His children.
Nearly thirty people.
One of them...
Could be working for Phoenix.
Special Agent Daniel Cross quietly reached into his jacket.
Instead of a weapon...
He removed a compact electronic device.
Sarah frowned.
"What is that?"
"A wireless signal detector."
He activated it.
The screen immediately filled with blinking red indicators.
Cross's face tightened.
"That's impossible."
"What?"
"There are at least fourteen unauthorized transmitters inside this house."
Michael stared.
"Fourteen?"
Cross nodded.
"Hidden cameras."
"Microphones."
"Tracking beacons."
Someone had turned the Carter mansion into a surveillance hub.
Teams immediately split up.
Every room was searched.
Within fifteen minutes...
The first device was found.
Inside a smoke detector.
Then another.
Hidden inside a wall clock.
A third.
Behind the television.
A fourth.
Inside Lily's favorite teddy bear.
Michael picked up the stuffed bear with shaking hands.
Lily noticed.
"What happened?"
He couldn't answer.
Someone had hidden a camera inside the toy she'd slept with every night.
The discoveries accelerated.
A microphone beneath the dining table.
A camera inside the kitchen coffee machine.
Another behind the mirror in the upstairs hallway.
Each one professionally installed.
None commercially available.
Cross examined one of them closely.
"I've seen these before."
Sarah looked up.
"Where?"
"Military intelligence."
Richard frowned.
"You're telling me someone used government-grade surveillance equipment..."
"...inside a family home?"
Cross looked uncomfortable.
"Yes."
Michael slowly turned toward Vanessa.
"When?"
She looked confused.
"When what?"
"When were these installed?"
"I don't know."
"You expected me to believe that?"
"I swear."
Michael laughed bitterly.
"You expect me to believe strangers hid fourteen cameras in our house..."
"...and you never noticed?"
Vanessa's shoulders slumped.
"I noticed two."
Silence.
Michael stared at her.
"You knew?"
"I found one behind the bedroom mirror."
"And?"
"I destroyed it."
Cross interrupted.
"When?"
"About a year ago."
"You should have reported it."
"I was afraid."
Sarah stepped closer.
"Afraid of whom?"
Vanessa whispered one word.
"Phoenix."
Just then...
Officer Martinez came running from the basement.
"Detective!"
Sarah turned.
"What is it?"
"You need to see this."
Everyone followed him downstairs.
At the far end of the basement sat a reinforced storage room Michael rarely used.
Old furniture.
Boxes of holiday decorations.
Nothing important.
Martinez pointed toward the concrete wall.
"There."
A section of the wall looked different.
Newer.
Cleaner.
Cross frowned.
"Hollow."
He knocked twice.
The sound echoed.
Michael looked confused.
"That room doesn't exist."
"It does now."
Officers brought in a demolition tool.
Three heavy strikes later...
The false wall cracked.
Dust filled the basement.
A fourth strike.
The concrete collapsed inward.
Behind it...
Was another room.
Small.
Windowless.
Perfectly hidden.
Everyone entered cautiously.
The lights turned on automatically.
The room was immaculate.
A desk.
Computer monitors.
Recording equipment.
Hard drives.
Maps.
Photographs.
Michael's blood froze.
One entire wall...
Was covered with pictures of his family.
Thousands of them.
Every birthday.
Every vacation.
Every school event.
Every doctor's appointment.
Years of surveillance.
Sarah slowly walked closer.
Each photograph had handwritten notes beneath it.
Lily
Fear response improving.
Highly protective of brother.
Not primary objective.
Next photo.
Michael
Increasing suspicion.
Emotional attachment remains exploitable.
Next.
Vanessa
Control declining.
Consider replacement.
Cross stopped reading.
His face had gone pale.
"Replacement..."
Sarah looked at him.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
Instead...
He walked toward the desk.
There sat a closed notebook.
Old leather cover.
No title.
He opened it.
The first page contained only names.
Some crossed out.
Some circled.
Michael Carter.
Vanessa Carter.
Richard Donovan.
Sarah Bennett.
Daniel Cross.
Every person currently inside the mansion...
Already appeared in the notebook.
Sarah's heartbeat accelerated.
"How old is this?"
Cross flipped several pages.
His expression darkened.
"At least six months."
Michael stepped forward.
"Someone knew we'd all be here tonight?"
"No."
Cross looked around the room.
"Worse."
"They planned for it."
Suddenly...
A radio crackled upstairs.
An officer shouted frantically.
"Detective!"
Sarah grabbed her radio.
"Go!"
"One of the prisoners is gone!"
She looked confused.
"What prisoner?"
"Vanessa!"
Michael's heart stopped.
"What?"
Another frantic voice came over the radio.
"She's disappeared!"
Sarah sprinted upstairs.
Michael followed.
The handcuffs lay open on the living room floor.
Two officers were unconscious.
Neither seriously injured.
Just knocked out.
The front door remained locked.
Every window sealed.
No alarms had sounded.
Vanessa...
Had vanished from a house surrounded by police.
Cross slowly looked toward the hidden surveillance room beneath the basement.
Then back at the empty handcuffs.
He whispered quietly...
"They didn't rescue her..."
"They came to silence her."
Before anyone could respond...
A single gunshot echoed from somewhere deep beneath the mansion.
Not upstairs.
Not outside.
Below them.
May you like
From a level of the house...
...that none of them knew existed.
